Walter and Bertha
by Chicken Whisper
Summary: The life of Anne through Walter and Bertha's eyes. (Major character death(s)
1. Where We Began

"Oh! I'm sorry," a woman said, as she went to pick up the books that's had fallen on the floor.

"No harm done," the man replied. The woman had accidentally knocked down his stack on the floor.

He spied the green book in her hand.

"Ah, Jane Eyre. A wonderful tale indeed!" She looked at him doubtlessly "You've read it before?"

"Indeed, to my grandmother when she was still alive. What's your name? Mine is Walter Shirley."

"My name is Bertha James." She answered shyly.

"Do you have any family Walter?"

"No, my parents passed a year ago. We weren't really on good terms; they wanted me to become a doctor but I didnt want to. Currently I work as a blacksmith. What about you? You got folks around?"

"Mum died when I was little and my father died when I was eighteen. He left me a sizable inheritance, being the frugal man he was. I have been living off of that and I work at the dress shop."

Walter observed this Bertha. She seemed no older than twenty and she was gorgeous with black hair, hazel eyes, and a shapely nose. He himself was twenty-two and had brown hair, brown eyes , and was rather tall for his age.

"How old are you?" She asked him shyly, blushing a little.

"I'm twenty-two."

"Oh, I'm twenty-one."

They stared at each other awkwardly for a minute until Walter finally cleared his throat; and looking down at the books in his hands, said, "well I better go and pay for these books."

"Oh, right. Will I see you around?"

"Maybe. I'm staying at the Maplewood Boarding House until I can afford a home." He told her boldly.

Bertha looked surprised, "The Maplewood House? Why, I'm staying there!"

Walt laughed, "I guess I will see you around, wanna go for a walk tomorrow?"

"How do I know you're trustworthy?" Bertha asked him, suddenly suspicious.

"I have read a lot of books."

"And?" She prodded, not sure where this stranger was going.

"Well, it is to my belief that a well-read person generally isn't harmful."*

"True indeed. I guess I'll go for a walk with you in town, how about five? Will that work?"

"I look forward to it."

With that the two parted ways, but after, they spent all of their free time together. Something they both enjoyed doing was reading by the fireplace in the boarding home at nighttime.

It was so cosy in the bright-lit room, with the orange and yellow flames dances in the hearth, making shadows on the walls.

* * *

After a year had gone by, on a warm July day, Walt asked Bertha if she would go for a walk down by the pond with him,and of course, she accepted.

Hand in hand they strolled through the woody area and reached the pond, Bertha had brought a picnic basket and set it down near the water bank. Walter spread a blanket down and they enjoyed the sandwiches Bertha had made.

"Isn't it so pretty Walt? The butterflies-and look! A swan! She looks so peaceful on the water, as if she was floating through the air."

Walter chuckled, he loved her imagination, he too was in total bliss. Next to the woman he loved, on a warm, sunny day, wishing it would last forever.

"It is indeed." He agreed, kissing her forehead.

He hesitated and then looked at her he held her hand. "Wouldn't it be nice if it could last forever?"

"It would indeed." Bertha agreed.

"Bertha James, will you do me the honour of marrying me?" Walt asked going down on one knee.

Bertha started crying, in tears she said, "of c-course I-I will!"

He swooped in and kissed her softly on the lips.

"Now I don't have a ring or anything but, this will do until I can get you one." He grabbed a long piece of grass and tied it around her ring finger.

Laughing all the way back to the boarding home they decided to wed the next week.

* * *

"I now pronounce you man and wife." The Reverend Miller declared.

Bertha stared at the wood ring Walter had made. It wasnt anything fancy, just a Walnut wood circle, but she could feel Walt's love radiating off of it.

It was a small wedding and the only people there was Walter's friends Peter and Martha Thomas.

Afterwards as the happy couple walked out of the church they looked at each other.

"Let's go home Mrs. Shirley." Walter declared.

Peter let them borrow his extra horse and buggy. The newlyweds drove to their new, little house, secluded from the town and people.

Between Bertha's inheritance and Walter's pay from the smithy, they could afford the bungalow.

It was a cosy white house with a stream that ran from the field behind it. It only had two bedrooms but they weren't expecting children anytime soon. Apple and cherry trees grew on the property, making it perfect for a family because there would always be food to sell or eat.

Both of them were able to get a better paying jobs at a school. Walter taught the older ones while Bertha taught the little ones.

They settled into married life rather quickly, both eager to finally have family again. Six months later Bertha wasn't feeling her normal self. Certain smells make her nauseous and she was tired most of the time.

* * *

Walt came home one Saturday, to see her napping on the grey sofa.

"Sleeping again?" He asked concerned.

"What? Oh! Hello, Walt. I'm exhausted." She said yawning.

"You haven't been yourself lately. Is everything alright?"

"I don't know." Bertha admitted confused.

"Why don't we go to the doctor?" He suggested

"Alright." She consented.

He hitched up their new grey horse to the new buggy.

The doctor was available to see them.

She explained her symptoms to the doctor and he screwed his face up.

"I think I know what is wrong," he announced.

The Shirley's looked at each other worriedly.

"I think you're expecting."

Bertha's hand flew up to her mouth and Walter was in shock.

"We're going to have a baby?!" Bertha's emotions were all over the place; should she be happy or not?

"But that's not possible! It can't be!" Walter said, rather confused_. Already? We have only been married for half a year!_

"And why isn't it?" She asked, winking at him.

He had to admit that she was right.

"Well thank you doctor." He told the man who was stifling a laugh.

"You're very welcome. And I will see you very soon," He said, winking at Bertha.

Walter was still in shock. _I'm going to be a father?! Already?!_

Bertha couldn't stop smiling. Really this wasn't a ideal time to have a child, but she knew that they would manage.

When they got home Walter finally got out of his shock. He kissed her lips and held her close to his chest.

"Are you happy?" He asked.

"Yes, are you?" She looked straight into his bright brown eyes.

"If you are." He smiled, then he kissed her stomach.

* * *

***Series of Unfortunate Events.**

**A/N: A few things are a reference to people. Them having brown and black hair then having a redhead is a reference to my cousin and Bertha's last name is a reference to...well...Ill let you guys figure that out. ;)**


	2. Bonny Anne

**A/N: Sorry i have stopped writing for so long! Life has been crazy!**

* * *

"I can see the head!" Dr. Lee informed from above his place at the foot of the bed. "It won't be long now before you will meet your new baby. Now push!"

Bertha gripped her husband's hand and screamed in pain. Walter had lost all feeling in his hand now from her squeezing it so hard, but he wouldn't pull it away. Instead he kissed her sweaty forehead. "That's it my love!"

Dr. Lee looked up, "the baby's head is out and now I need you to push as hard as you can!"

Bertha gritted her teeth and with what energy she had left, pushed with all her might.

"That's it!" The doctor encouraged.

Bertha felt the baby slide out from between her thighs and collapsed against the bed.

"Well done Mrs. Shirley! You have a little girl!" Dr. Lee told them, wrapping the crying baby in a towel and placing her in the new mother's outstretched arms. Walt rubbed his hand trying to regain feeling in it. But when he saw his daughter for the first time he thought that his hand cramping was worth it.

The happy couple marveled at their daughter. Walter placed his hand on her head, "You're simply perfect," he breathed. "Arent you just bonny," Bertha cooed to the small bundle in her arms.

After the placenta had been delivered, the doctor suggested Bertha try to nurse the baby. She unbuttoned her nightgown and guided the newborn's head to her nipple. They were all happy when the crying stopped and the sound of the baby suckling filled the room.

Walt couldn't stop staring at his daughter, this was _his_ to take care of, _his_ to love.

"Dr. Lee was cleaning up his supplies and asked, " do you have a name picked out?"

"Well, I bet she has her mother's fighting spirit." Walt chuckled. _Fighting_, Bertha thought. _Bonny_, _fighting_. _Anne Bonny_ the pirate.

"What about Anne?" Bertha suggested.

"Bertha, when you said Anne her eyes opened! I think that was supposed to be a yes."

"Then Anne it is Walt!" Bertha laughed and rocked Anne in her arms.

Dr. Lee chuckled, "Good choice, I must be off now. I will probably come to check up on you tomorrow." With that he left and it was just the three people in the tiny room.

"_A General History of Pyrates_ is one of my favourite books. I remember reading about Anne Bonny, with you Bertha."

After Anne had her fill Walt placed her in the bassinet so Bertha could get some rest. He kissed his wife and daughter's head and then fell asleep in the chair between the bed and the bassinet.


	3. His Book of Memories

**Sorry for the silence. This was incredibly hard for me to write. I couldnt find a valid excuse in this story for Walter and Bertha to have to write letters to each other; so, I wrote it out in the format of Walter's diary.**

* * *

_4 of April, 1883_

_Bolingbroke, Nova Scotia_

_It has been a long time since I last wrote in my diary. Life has kept me busy. For starters, two weeks ago my daughter was born; I still can't believe that she is mine. Bertha and I have decided to call her Anne, after Anne Bonny. I hope that little Anne will be just as much of a fighter as Anne Bonny was. If she's anything like her mother then I have no doubt about it._

_She has no hair yet, although I expect it to be black like her mother's hair is. She has the same eyes as Bertha, but with a bit more green in them. _

_I was just thinking of one day teaching her at the school. Won't that be something? _

_Oh, speaking of school, I should probably write the latest news: Bertha has decided to stop teaching. Anne is quite a handful and I have a strong suspicion that as she gets older it will only get worse._

_18 of April, 1883_

_Bolingbroke, Nova Scotia_

_Her hair is starting to come in, and it's red! Bertha and I are astounded and have been trying to figure out how she got her fiery hair. I recalled my grandfather being a redhead, and I also recall him having quite a temper to go along with it! Bertha says that she doesn't know if there's a redhead in her family. I suppose anything is possible. Won't we look odd walking down the street? A brown haired man with a black haired woman and a red haired baby! _

_I can hear Anne crying; nighttime is the hardest for us. Bertha's calling my name, so I guess I'll stop writing. _

_28 of April, 1883 _

_Bolingbroke, Nova Scotia_

_When I got home from the school I saw Bertha, sitting on my porch, with the baby in the bassinet beside her. The sun was just starting to set through the apple orchard and it was making the stream glisten. It was a pretty scene, and I wish to never forget it._

_17 of May, 1883_

_Bolingbroke, Nova Scotia_

_I know it has been a long time. The school has been busy. I have gotten behind with grading the end-of-school tests. _

_Anne continues to brighten up our day. Smiling has been her favourite pastime. If I tickle her toes then I can usually get a giggle from her as well. _

_Bertha just went to attend to a sick church member, so it will just be Anne and I for the rest of the night. _

_20 of May, 1883_

_Bertha woke up today and said that she had a sore throat. I've decided to take off today to watch her and take care of Anne. I expect she's tired from taking care of her. The baby is such a rough sleeper and the only thing that will calm her is Bertha's milk. _

_22 of May 1883_

_Bolingbroke, Nova Scotia_

_Bertha has still been feeling unwell. And this morning she woke up feeling hot and with a rash all over her body. I've had to take off work, and even though we do need the money, I won't leave her. I think I'm going to ask the doctor to look at her tomorrow. The Thomas's agreed to watch Anne. Mrs Thomas just had another baby in February, and she told me that she would be able to feed both babies. I will miss Anne very much, but I know that this is for the best._

_23 May, 1883_

_Bolingbroke, Nova Scotia_

_No, it can't be. It can't be! The doctor told me that she has scarlet fever. He says that she might survive, but that I should be prepared if she-no, I won't say it. Oh, what am I going to do?_

_27 May, 1883_

_Bolingbroke, Nova Scotia_

_Bertha is rapidly getting worse and worse. I am up all hours tending to her. _

_29 May, 1883_

_Bolingbroke, Nova Scotia_

_Please, let this not be true! I'm begging! The doctor doesn't think that she will make it through the night. How will I raise Anne? H-how can I raise her without Bertha? _

_30 May, 1883_

_Bolingbroke, Nova Scotia_

_She's g-gone. Died in the wee smalls this morning. It doesn't seem to have hit me yet. How cruel is this world that it took away the love of my life, and a mother to a newborn? A world without Bertha seems impossible-and yet...the impossible has become reality for me...and for Anne._

* * *

**Let me know if I should do a chapter of Bertha's side. Just a warning that here until the end this is going to be sad. **


	4. Her Book of Memories

_26 March, 1883_

_Dear Diary, my daughter, Anne, was born two days ago; she's simply beautiful. Still bald, but in due course I expect that she will have a thick head of hair. Her eyes are like mine, but with more green in them. Although all she does is sleep and nurse, so catching her with her eyes open is difficult._

_Though she is not even a week old, I find myself falling to sleep at night imagining what she will grow up to be, or who she will marry._

_31 March 1883_

_Ah, Anne has finally fallen asleep, so now I can write._

_Every night I pick up the hungry baby and guide her head to my breast. It hurts at first, but eventually it feels like a gentle tug, and you just hear the sound of the baby suckling._

_I don't think that it's fair that the men are unable to feed babies. They get all the sleep while we women have to stay up all hours of the night either nursing, or soothing. So unfair! If only Eve hadn't eaten that apple!_

_1 April, 1883_

_As of today Walter and I decided that I would stop teaching. I adore all of the little ones, but now I have a little one of my own, and she is quite a handful! I will certainly miss teaching all of my students. I don't suppose Martha Thomas would take the job; she has such a large family and with the new baby, Elijah, it would be a lot to juggle. Too bad though, I know that they could use the money._

_7 April, 1883_

_The best part of my day is when Walter comes home. He jumps down from the buggy, sprints across the yard, runs to the bassinet in the dining room, picks up Anne, and then dances around the kitchen with her in his arms._

_Last night I woke up to him at the foot of our bed looking at Anne sleeping in the cradle._

_"I can't sleep. All I wanna do I look at her," he confessed._

_"Mm, she is cute," I agreed._

_"No, cute isn't a big enough word to describe her. Neither is extraordinary-oh I don't know, I don't think that there is a big enough word to describe her."_

_He climbed back up to the head of the bed and laid down under the covers._

_"I don't think that there is a big word that describes her, but I can think of a small one," I told him._

_"Hmm?"_

_"Priceless."_

_"She is that," he agreed, kissing me on the cheek._

_15 April, 1883_

_Tonight Walt made dinner. He made me my favourite, vegetable stew; for dessert he made an apple pie that was slightly charred around the edges. Still, I have to give him credit for trying._

_7 May, 1883_

_It's been awhile since my last entry; Anne came down with a cold and I've been up all hours attending to her._

_She's all better now, and lately I've been catching up on lost sleep. I daresay, I envy all the young people that I see, staying out late at night. Why, I would go to bed by seven if I could!_

_17 May, 1883_

_Just got back from attending to Miss Knolls. She is an elderly spinster that caught a bad case of something. I went and cleaned her house for her and kept her company. It must be so lonely living in a house all by yourself. I can tell that she appreciated my visit, because when I was leaving she thanked me over and over again for visiting her and kissed me on both of my cheeks. So sweet._

_20 May, 1883_

_I'm afraid that I've caught what Miss Knolls had. My throat is sore._

_22 May, 1883_

_Oh dear! I have a red rash all over my body and I feel hot. Walter brought Anne in for a a quick second and I drank in the sight of her. I wish I could've held her, but I don't want the baby catching whatever I have. He took her to the Thomas's house, Martha will take good care of her. I can feel my eyes watering and-oh, there goes a tear sliding down my cheek. I miss her already._

_Walt has been so good and he hasn't left my side since he came back from Peter and Martha's house. He climbed in bed with me and held me close. I could her the rhythmic beating of his heart and I closed my eyes, not believing that I have been blessed with such a wonderful husband and daughter._

* * *

_**Just a warning that in the next chapter Walter dies**. _


	5. The Grim Reaper Strikes Again

**In rare cases back then, Strep Throat was the cause of Scarlet Fever, mainly throgh saliva. I dont think they knew that Strep Throat was the culprit, but for creativity's sake let's say that they did.**

* * *

Walter went to Bertha's funeral with a heavy heart. He wished he could afford an engraved stone instead of the simple wooden cross. Every penny he had was stored for Anne and Anne alone.

Before the funeral started Martha handed Anne back to him.

"She's a odd one out, ain't she? I've never seen such red hair! I doubt she'll ever fit in."

Walter was enraged by the rude comment but was too exhausted to say anything mean,instead he let out a sigh.

"Thanks for watching her, much obliged."

She just nodded.

Walter quickly took the baby and the bag he had sent with her.

After the funeral he went home and promptly upon arrival he broke down sobbing. The house felt like something was missing in the air; it felt dark; still; dead. As if Bertha took the house with her when she died.

Sniffling he laid a tired Anne down in her second-hand bassinet, picking up her tiny hand he mumbled to himself, "what will become of us?"

That night was rough, Anne didn't take to the cow's milk very well, and Walter almost gave up in frustration, he wished he could afford the new powdered formula that had just recently been invented. Eventually her hunger outgrew her distaste and she ate it willingly.

Thomas Hammond had asked to borrow the buggy for a month or two, his was falling apart, and in exchange he let Walter take a milker to feed Anne with.

* * *

Mrs. Thomas came over the next day to see how Walter was doing, she brought some news with her as well.

"Hello, Martha, won't you come in?"

"Yes, that would be nice, thank you."

He held Anne in his arms as they say down for tea.

"It seems as though Miss Knolls doesn't have scarlet fever after all." Martha announced.

"Well that's good. One death is enough for this small town."

"Yes, it seems that she has strep throat. I doubt that she'll live long anyway. She must be around eighty-nine- or ninety."

She stayed a few minutes longer and they chatted about the Thomas farm.

"His hair was a mess, his shirt was untucked, and he had tear stains down his cheeks," Martha would later tell Peter.

* * *

Three days later Martha went to check in on Walter and make sure the cow was okay.

After knocking she stepped in; the first sound that she heard was the baby screaming.

"Martha? Would you come into my room?" She heard Walt call out over Anne's cries.

_That's odd,_ she thought.

Upon first glance she saw him lying in his bed looking pale and weak.

"I'm afraid that I've caught the damn sickness," he cursed.

"Oh, Walter," was all she said. What else was there to say?

She picked up Anne and unbuttoned her blouse just enough that the baby would reach her breast.

Instantly the crying stopped.

_Bertha should be the one doing that_, he thought.

"Please, Martha, take her. There's no one else. I cannot give her this damn sickness," he looked at her with tears of desperation in his eyes.

"I-I," she couldn't afford another baby, let alone have the room in her house rundown house for one. Peter would kill her. But the fear, and desperation in Walter's face.

"I'll take her."

Relief flooded his face, "I cannot thank you enough, Martha. I know it wasn't the easiest thing I was asking of you."

She stepped towards his bed offering Anne to him.

He looked at her with such love in his eyes, it almost made her sick.

Then the eyes that showed the love filled with tears.

"D-don't b-bring her clo-closer to me. She'll c-catch wha-what I have."

She nodded and stepped back.

He took a deep breath and made himself calm down.

"Anne," he started, "I will always-always love you. Don't forget how much Papa wishes he didn't have to do this. I love you Anne."

He nodded at Martha to leave; and she walked out with Anne still latched to her breast.

On her way out of the front door she heard his cry of anguish.

"It's not like Anne will remember he said that to her. What have I gotten myself into?" She muttered.

Yes, it was sad that Walter and Bertha would die. If she admitted it, though, they were annoying, with their _perfect marriage_ and their ugly baby that was, in their eyes flawless. Still, she wouldn't have wanted them to go this way.

Grabbing the cow she walked home, stopping in at the doctor's practice.

"Doctor, it's Walter Shirley, he's caught scarlet fever."

The doctor sighed, "I'll hate to see him go. Such a good man." With that he raced out the door up to the little white bungalow.

* * *

That night Peter came home drunk. He stomped around the house, scaring the three older ones.

"We're in charge of that red headed Shirley now?!" He yelled.

"Yes, we are. There was no way around it. You should've seen how sappy Walter was to her."

"I can only imagine," he muttered.

"Maybe the redhead can be like a maid when she's older, to earn her keep. I ain't taking care of no little 'un that ain't mine for free."

Martha liked that idea.

"She can start when she's four."

"I guess a three-year-old can't do much," he sighed.

"Come to bed with me now, Martha. I want to have some fun."

Placing Anne in the tattered crib she followed her husband into their bedroom.

The three older children knew that if they didn't go outside that they would hear strange sounds coming from their parent's bedroom. Hurriedly they scurried out of the house like mice.

Four days later they buried Walter Shirley.

The doctor was in the next room when he heard the final breath. He said that all Walter talked about, up until his last breath, was Anne.


	6. Despair in Heaven

A/N: This is probably the most far-fetched thing you will have ever read in your life, but oh well! I want to thank **Ozdiva** for helping me with this chapter and for giving me great ideas. I would be so stuck without your help! Thank you!

* * *

He felt like he was rising, rising through a tunnel filled with lights of all colours; and he was going fast-faster than he had ever gone in his life.

Then he came to a pit-stop and his feet touched the ground again. It was bright, so very bright, and not a dark colour in sight.

It felt like heaven. Was he in heaven? He didn't know. All he knew was that this was the most beautiful place he had ever been.

"Walter! Walter!" A woman came running up to him. It was Bertha, but not the pale, thin, sickly looking one he had last seen. She looked like the first time he had ever saw her: silky, black hair, and bright hazel eyes.

"Oh, Bertha! Bertha!." He ran to join her. They hugged and he promised himself that he would never let go of her again.

"So, Heaven is for real," he whispered in awe, "I could get used to this place."

"Oh, Walt, still cracking jokes I see," she smiled, but it was a smile with a hint of sadness.

"You're thinking about her, aren't you?"

"Lets take a walk," Bertha said.

Slowly they walked through unnaturally bright green grass. It felt cool and soft on Walter's bare feet. Neither of them were talking.

Eventually Bertha stopped. Walter noticed that this place looked exactly like the spot he had proposed to her…except it was bigger, and all of the colours were more vibrant. Across the pond he saw a deer-was it smiling? He couldn't tell.

"It's beautiful isn't it?," Bertha broke the silence.

"Yes, it is."

"I can't seem to enjoy it. We should be enjoying life together, the three of us. Not you and me in Heaven and her stuck down there. It's funny I know. All I do I worry about her. Ive been keeping an eye on her. Walt, Peter and Martha are not who we thought they were."

Walter noticed that she never said Anne's name.

"What do you mean?"

"Peter has taken to the drink to help his money problems and his marriage. He comes home every night scaring his children. And I watched them say how they will make Anne their servant when she turns four." Bertha's voice had no emotion as she said these things. She just stared across the pond.

Walter sucked in his breath. He had entrusted his baby girl to a drunkard and his wife. What was going to happen to her?

"I-I had no idea. You don't think that they will hurt her do you?"

"I don't know. Come, let's go watch our girl."

He followed his wife, yet again, and eventually they reached a cliff.

"Jump, don't worry."

He watched her go first and then he followed. They landed on a white, fluffy, cloud.

As a boy he always wondered what clouds felt like, now he knew. They were soft, like a puppy's fur, but weightless. Bertha broke his thoughts.

"Look over the edge, Walt"

He did as she instructed and saw the Thomas house. It was run-down and one of the windows was shattered.

"I had no idea that they lived like this, Bertha."

"I didn't either until I-"

She stopped talking and he could hear shouting.

"I put our Anne in harm's way, Bertha," he said with a sudden realisation that shocked him to the core.

"Please, don't say her name. I-I won't ever be able to use that name to call her in for dinner, or scold her, or love on her. Don't you see? We're not parents anymore," Bertha hugged his side hard, seeking comfort from him.

He hadn't thought of it that way. Now he understood.

He felt something wet on his face. No, not tears; looking up he rain coming down from the clouds above them.

The one that Bertha and Walter were sitting on turned black, and lighting shot out from it.

It was as if the clouds were showing emotion for them.

"Bertha?"

"Hmm?"

"We are able to feel sadness and anger, but we can't shed tears or show physical emotion, right?" He glanced at her questioningly.

"I've only been here for a short while, but, yes, it seems like that. Countless times I have wanted to cry for our baby, but instead it starts to rain down there," she told him, her voice devoid of any emotion.

"How do we change this?" Walt asked. He couldn't imagine sitting on a cloud watching his baby girl grow up for eternity.

"I'm not sure I want to. I need to make sure our girl isn't in danger. Peter and Martha are a no good sort. I doubt they will take care of her."

As much as he wanted to enjoy the paradise he had learned about all his life, Walter felt the same way his wife did.

He knew that until Anne was safe, he would sit on a cloud and watch her.

Until the end of time, if need be.


	7. Our Girl

A/N: To be honest I wasnt sure if I should use this new and unusual view of the story. But it seems well received by you guys so far. Thanks to all who have stuck around, followed, and favourited!

* * *

"Look, Walt, Martha's nursing Anne," Berths sighed.

She had started to use Anne's name again, even though it still hurt to say.

"I'm sorry, my love."

And here we go, Walt thought.

It started to downpour in the little town that they had once called home.

Martha, who had been sitting on her porch, quickly shouted for her children and they all bustled inside.

"Bertha, that's the third time that you have done that! You're going to make it worse for Anne if you drown their crop!"

"I know, I know! I don't know how you are able to keep calm!"

"I don't let my mind fill with bad thoughts. That keeps me from wanting to cry. I've told you this!"

"I can't help it! I'm the one who should be doing all of those things!"

Walt noticed the clouds steadily getting greyer.

"Bertha, snap out of it! Please! Don't make it start to thunder," he begged her.

She took deep breaths and he saw the clouds slowly change again and it stopped raining. Cloudy, but no rain.

"Good. Now we can help Anne. I want her first memory to be a sunshine-filled day. So, control your emotions."

"You're right. Okay," she took a deep breath, "remember the time when I made you change her nappy for the first time?"

Walt make a fake gagging sound, "That was the worst smell I've ever smelled in my entire life."

Bertha laughed, "you suggested we put her dirty nappies around our house so no burglars would try to come in."

"Ugh, they were that bad."

Both of them started to laugh and the sun slowly started to break through the clouds.

After that Bertha tried her best to keep it shining. For her Anne.

"What unusual weather we've been having today," Martha muttered under her breath.

"Children! Please put your toys away before your father comes home!"

She patted Anne twice in her back and then laid her down in the crib.

On the way to do what their mother had told them, the three children stuck their tongues out at baby Anne.

* * *

She wasn't a Thomas, so why should she get their mother's attention?

One day Mum came home holding a ugly red-haird baby and said, "She's staying with us. Her name is Anne." And that was it. No one spoke about it. But later that night they could hear their parents arguing in their bedroom about the baby.

* * *

"She's one today," Bertha, remembered.

"That was such a special day, wasn't it? I felt bad for you though," Walter replied.

"Yes, but the joy I felt afterwards was worth it. I wonder if they will do anything for her today."

The Thomases just didn't care, Bertha found out later on.

* * *

"Well, the Shirley girl is four today. She can help me with Timothy and Charlotte," Martha said, picking up the latest babies.

This was her first time having twins and she was grateful that Anne would be able to help her now. Twins meant double the trouble, according to her.

"Anne!" She screeched for her.

"Yes, Mrs. Thomas?" A little green-eyed, red-haired girl peeked around the corner of the hallway.

"Now that you're four, you can help me. Go and get everyone's laundry; strip the beds too," Martha snapped.

"Yes, ma'am"

Ever since she could remember, Anne had been on her own. Once she asked Mrs. Thomas about her family and she told her to keep quiet.

She couldn't help that she was curious. So many thoughts filled her brain all the time and she was bursting with questions, but Anne knew to hold her tongue.

Thoughts of princesses and Knights in shilling armour made her chores fly by.

"Now let me show you how to do the laundry. You better learn fast because I ain't teaching you again, and if Mr. Thomas's shirts still have stains in them, you can be sure he'll take your hide. Understand?"

Anne nodded quickly, "yes ma'am"

Later that day, and into the night, the little town witnessed a thunderstorm that most of its inhabitants had never seen.


	8. The Story Continues

Time went on and on; unfortunately every year Anne's plight got worse and worse.

When Anne turned six the Thomas's moved and sent Anne to go live with their friends, Dan and Jennifer Hammond; they had four children, two of which were twins.

Soon after receiving Anne the Hammonds moved to a little house in the woods, on the outskirts of Hopetown.

"Anne! The twins need their nappies changed! Oh, and Suzie threw up in the nursery!"

"Yes, Mrs Hammond!"

Anne quickly finished making breakfast and set to work changing the diapers and cleaning up the sick.

Mrs. Hammond called again, "Go milk the cow now!"

"Yes, Ma'am!"

Anne grabbed the milk pail and went outside.

"Hello, Blossom," she whispered into the cow's ear.

"I just need to take some milk. I'm warming my hands, see?" She rubbed her hands together and sat down on the stool.

"Walter! She's only eight!" Bertha began pacing back and forth on the clouds.

Through the wind she whispered, "run away, run away, Anne."

Anne felt a breeze blow on her.

She began to talk to the cow, "What if the wind could talk? I wonder what it would say? Maybe it would say, it's okay Anne, everything will be alright; or run away. What am I thinking? That's absurd. If only you could talk, Blossom."

Blossom let out a long _mooooo_.

"Oh, sorry, I squeezed too tight, didn't I?"

* * *

Life went on, and nothing changed. Except that Jennifer had two more sets of twins. For both of those births it rained and lighting lit up the sky. Occasionally Bertha would whisper to Anne through the wind, but Anne would only think that she was imagining it, not that Bertha could blame her.

One fateful day, Anne walked in on Mrs. Hammond doing the dishes, and she was sobbing.

"Mrs Hammond? Are you okay?" Anne asked shyly, if Anne hated anything it was seeing people upset, even if it was her employer.

"Get out! Get out, you whelp!" Jennifer screeched at Anne, throwing the dish she was holding at the young girl. It narrowly missed Anne's left ear, smashing into a million pieces behind her.

Later on, Anne learned that the constable had come and told Mrs Hammond that Mr. Hammond had died when he fell onto the train tracks and a train came in.

"Why was that man trying to leave anyway, Bertha?" Walt turned to his wife.

"I'm not sure. Not to leave his family I hope."

* * *

After the funeral it was a whirlwind for Anne. Bags were packed, a for sale sign hung on the property, and next thing Anne knew was that a dirty old carpet bag was thrown at her and she was told to pack her belongings.

She packed: an old comb that was missing teeth, her extra set of undergarments that were too small, and an old worn out nightgown that has several rips and holes in it.

Mrs. Hammond told her that they were going to go for a ride into town.

How exciting! Anne thought.

"Bring your bag," Mrs. Hammond instructed.

"Oh, no. Another family I'm supposed to work for." Anne's excitement died away and she dreaded the future.

Mrs. Hammond grabbed Anne by her shoulder and marched her into the tall building.

"We can't take her here," the woman at the desk said as they entered.

"I can't keep her. My husband died, and now I'm forced to move to the States to live with relatives. I can't take her with me."

"Mrs. Hammond, please, don't leave me here," Anne looked up at her with big pleading eyes.

"You're not kin," she told Anne sternly, to the woman she said, "you're taking her and that's final." With that she turned on her heel and left, leaving a heartbroken eleven-year-old girl standing in front of the mahogany desk.

That night, Anne sat and watched the lighting outside the window. It raged on and on into the night.

Week after week went by.

"Look, Bertha, another couple! Oh they want a boy."

Bertha sighed, "I'm sick of the couples only wanting boys. Girls can do anything a boy can do...and more.*"

* * *

Later that day, far away from Hopetown, on Prince Edward Island, a brother and sister argued...

"Are you _mad_? You want to adopt a boy!"

The tall thin woman of around fifty stared daggers at the man who was holding a newspaper, and pointing to an advertisement.

"We could use the help around here and maybe liven the place up! Father and Mother would be disappointed to see this property the way it's been."

The woman opened and closed her mouth. There was nothing to say, her brother was right. And he seldom asked for something so strongly. How could she say no to her brother who never spoke?

A few days later it was settled, they would adopt a boy from Hopetown Asylum in June.

* * *

*Anne With an E


	9. Looking Up

A/N: Sorry this is so short

* * *

"-and seeing as you're going already to get a girl, we were wondering if you could get us a boy of around twelve or thirteen. Matthew is getting older and he could use the help, and I don't trust the French boys. I would like a born Canadian," the woman said to Mrs. Spencer.

"Of course I can bring bring one home for you."

"Much obliged. I trust you'll know the type for us. A quiet one I suppose, with a level head. Here's the money for the train fare."

Later that day, Mrs. Blewett came by.

"I wish I could adopt a girl to help me with the household tasks while I tend to the baby. He's so fussy. But I don't want to have to feed another mouth," she sighed.

"Mmhmm."

As she wrote the asylum she couldn't remember is she was getting a boy and a girl or a girl and a girl.

"I think I remember her saying how she wanted a girl to help with the household. Yes, that's right."

* * *

"Anne, I've got a letter here, saying that a brother and sister would like a girl, of around twelve or thirteen, and I've decided that you will go. Even though you're not quite twelve yet I think it will be beneficial for you. A woman named Mrs. Spencer will meet you in two days' time," Mrs. Van Doorn, the head matron said.

"Really!" Anne clasped her hands together and stared at the matron.

"Please, tell me again so I know I didn't imagine it!"

"You heard me," and with that Doorn left.

The real reason she had chosen Anne was because she couldn't stand another minute with that over-talkative girl; Anne knew that but pretended she didn't for fear the matron would change her mid.

* * *

"A brother and sister want to adopt our girl?"

"Maybe things will get better, Bertha."

"I'm not so sure," Bertha said suspiciously.

* * *

The two days went by so slowly for Anne but finally she was standing in the foyer with little Mary-Jane, meeting Mrs. Spencer.

The woman bent down to Mary-Jane's level, "How are you dear?"

"Okay," the little girl answered shyly.

"Hello, Anne."

"Hello."

Soon they were on their way.

They reached the Bright River train station and Mr. Spencer was waiting for Mrs. Spencer and Mary-Jane.

He greeted them warmly and Mary-Jane jumped into the buggy.

"Will you be alright waiting here Anne? I'm sure they will be here shortly."

"Yes, Ma'am. I'll be fine."

"Alright then."

She jumped into the buggy and Anne watched the Spencer's drive away.

"If no one comes to get me then I shall sleep in that cherry tree," Anne told herself.

After a while a man walked up to her.

"Hello, Anne. I-I suppose I'm to take you home."

Anne studied him, his face was aged, but he had kind eyes.

"Hello, you must be Matthew, Matthew Cuthbert."


	10. The Rocky Beginning

"That woman!" Bertha paced back and forth furiously on the cloud.

"There's still time yet for Miss. Cuthbert to like Anne," Walter said hopefully.

"I doubt it!"

"Bertha, come now. Look at Mr. Cuthbert. He looks at Anne the way I did. I can tell that he is good for her."

Bertha looked long and hard. That Mr. Cuthbert did look at Anne the same way Walt did when he was alive.

"I'll wait to pass judgement," she agreed, huffing all the while.

* * *

"Anne! Time to get up!"

Marilla Cuthbert didn't know what to think of this redheaded child. But if they took her on then that wouldn't solve the farm hand issue, besides, she talked far too much. No she would have to go back.

"Come, Anne, let's go and see how to right this mistake."

* * *

"Tell me about yourself. Where were you born? Who were your folks?"

*_"Oh, what I know about myself isn't really worth telling," said Anne eagerly. "If you'll only let me tell you what I imagine about myself you'll think it ever so much more interesting."_

_"No, I don't want any of your imaginings. Just you stick to bald facts. Begin at the beginning. Where were you born and how old are you?"_

_"I was eleven last March," said Anne, resigning herself to bald facts with a little sigh. "And I was born in Bolingbroke, Nova Scotia. My father's name was Walter Shirley, and he was a teacher in the Bolingbroke High School. My mother's name was Bertha Shirley..."_ *

* * *

"See? Look at Miss Cuthbert. Her face has softened somewhat. I think Anne may have a chance," Walt said, not trying to hide his optimism."

"I never would have wished our daughter to end up with two, old, wrinkly siblings," Bertha muttered.

"Eh, dear, I hope you never wished for her to become an orphan either."

"You know what I mean! Either way, the family I wish for her is a young couple, that maybe have a child already so Anne won't grow up alone. Miss Cuthbert does not look like she will tolerate much. And you know how Anne can talk!"

"Indeed. I just don't want Anne to end up in an asylum for the rest of her life. And my, Avonlea is beautiful."

"It is, isn't it? I can see why Anne called _"The Avenue"_ the _"White Way of Delight"*_ that place was far too romantical to be called that boring name."

Walter laughed, "Bertha, you sound like Anne."

Bertha looked back at Marilla and Anne. She saw them talking to two other women now. The one looked like a gimlet* in her opinion.

"If you don't earn your keep, girl, you'll know the toe of my boot..."

"Walt! The witch-lady wants Anne!" Bertha leaned farther over the cloud hoping for a better look.

"I don't like that," Walt said, "it will be like the Hammonds all over again."

Minutes passed by and it felt like torture to the Shirleys.

"_Look, _Bertha! Marilla and Anne are getting back in the buggy! They're gonna keep her!"

Bertha and Walter were so relived. The rest of the day seemed brighter and that night there was a beautiful starry sky.

* * *

Weeks passed and Bertha's feelings never changed towards Marilla.

Anne deserved a better mother, in her opinion.

Walter on the other hand was overjoyed. Matthew was a wonderful man as it turned out. Maybe a little too quiet but because all of the fathers Anne knew were always so loud Walt knew that this was a relief to her.

* * *

"Bertha, isn't that the raspberry cordial bottle Marilla filled with

wine?"

"Y-yes, I believe it is! And Anne is serving it to Diana."

Walter laughed, "this should be fun to watch!"

* * *

**Anne of Green Gables**

Two more chapters and then we're done!


	11. Raw Physical Contact

"I don't think God _Himself_ could reason with Mrs. Barry," Anne sighed and sat down.

"Yes, she's too stubborn," Marilla agreed.

"Please call Matthew in for dinner."

"Yes ma'am."

* * *

Walter was hooting with laughter over the whole ordeal. Bertha not so much.

"Walter, Anne just _lost_ her best friend and yet you're laughing about it!"

"It's jus-it's just so funny! You have to admit it. If there's any mistake that can happen Anne will grant it."

"Yes, yes, she does seem to be a bit at sixes and sevens. This time I blame that Marilla woman," Bertha huffed.

"Just give her some time. I think _deep_ down inside she's always wanted this."

"Wanted what?" Bertha turned toward her husband.

"A daughter."

"She hardly treats Anne as if she was her daughter!"

"Come now, she's given her a warm bed, nourishing food, a safe house. Not all people show affection the same way. Give it time before you pass judgement."

"Yes, you told me already."

"And it seems that you haven't listened!"

"I know, I just want Anne to be happy-"

* * *

Later on that night, after Anne went to bed, Marilla explained what had happened to Matthew, during the process she couldn't help herself from laughing.

But going up to check on Anne before bedtime she saw that the girl had cried herself to sleep.

She bent down and brushed a stray red lock out of Anne's face, the candlelight making it look more red than normal.

Warmth filled her heart at that sight.

"Poor little soul," she murmured.

And gently she kissed Anne's forehead. After pulling the quilt up over Anne's thin body she left and went to bed.

* * *

Both Shirleys watched intently, through the gable window, as Marilla brushed the hair out of Anne's face and kissed her.

"See, dear? She does _love_ Anne."

"You're right, Walt," Bertha said in awe.

Something inside both Shirleys broke and they knew that Anne was well taken care of. Knowing that Anne was indeed loved by these two middle aged brother and sister gave them both...peace. Something that they hadn't felt in eleven years.

They felt such happiness and both breathed long breaths.

Walter stood up, "My darling Bertie, we have sat here on this cloud for eleven years. I think it's time we go and enjoy Heaven. Anne is well off now, and she is happy. One day she will join us. But for now, let us go."

"Bertha nodded. It had been a long time. She remembered as a little girl the minister would preach about heaven. She was always so curious about it. Her destiny wasn't to sit here and watch Anne; a whole new world awaited her and Walter.

"Yes, let's go." With a final look down at their sleeping daughter Walter and Bertha floated upwards into heaven.

Raw physical contact was the reassurance Bertha, and though he wouldn't say it, Walter needed in order to let go.

* * *

"Can't catch me!" Bertha ran as fast as she could away from Walter. She ran through rolling grassy hills, where the grass was greener than anything she had seen on Earth.

When he caught up to her he kissed her deeply.

They knew that Anne would eventually grow up and have children. But they wouldn't watch her anymore; they knew she was already being watched. One day she would join them and then they would catch up on everything.

Together, they were starting a brand-new, adventure that they had been putting off for so long.

"This is just the beginning isn't it, Bertha?"

"Indeed it is. It's time we explored Heaven instead of watching Anne. High time."

~End~

* * *

A/N: Thank you to all who have favourited, followed, and reviewed this crazy story! Special thanks to **Oz Diva**, wouldn't be able to do it without your help! The last thing is the Epilogue. You guys will enjoy that!


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